


So Close No Matter How Far

by FuryReina (ShadowRese)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Blood and Sand, Spartacus: Vengeance, Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Backstory, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-10 16:09:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowRese/pseuds/FuryReina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I have not ever written anything like this before, but I am probably more in love with the characters of Agron and Nasir than is healthy, so here it is. Apologies beforehand if it is not up to snuff. I also should note that I wrote this with my daughter in mind, who also loves Nagron, but is too young for any really graphic stuff, so it is kind of tame and sweet...</p><p>------- denotes a change is perspective</p><p>Agron and his tribe understand and speak the "common tongue", which is Latin, represented here in English, (Confusing right, lol?) but his mother tongue is German. You will see bits of German scattered here and there when things are from his perspective.</p><p>Nasir does not speak Latin, but the language of his homeland, a regional dialect, so you will not see it here. Know that when he is shown speaking it is written in English to allow for reading.<br/></p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I have not ever written anything like this before, but I am probably more in love with the characters of Agron and Nasir than is healthy, so here it is. Apologies beforehand if it is not up to snuff. I also should note that I wrote this with my daughter in mind, who also loves Nagron, but is too young for any really graphic stuff, so it is kind of tame and sweet...
> 
> \------- denotes a change is perspective
> 
> Agron and his tribe understand and speak the "common tongue", which is Latin, represented here in English, (Confusing right, lol?) but his mother tongue is German. You will see bits of German scattered here and there when things are from his perspective.
> 
> Nasir does not speak Latin, but the language of his homeland, a regional dialect, so you will not see it here. Know that when he is shown speaking it is written in English to allow for reading.  
> 

Chapter 1

 

     He stood stoic beside the bed where Vatir lay dying, an immovable statue wrapped in furs. Beside him, Agron's brother sobbed and tears fell from his eyes. Duro was 13 and Agron 15, and Agron knew that from this day forth he would be the man of the family. He would not start off badly by crying as his brother was doing. A part of him resented the fact that Duro could let loose this way, could show the pain that he was feeling. As always, whenever something troubled Agron, his temper got the better of him. "Hör auf!" he snapped. "Stop it! We are not girls, to carry on so. We are the chieftain's SONS, and will behave as such!"

 

   Duro's sobs ceased immediately, but silent tears continued to streak his cheeks. Agron turned to look at the younger boy, and saw Duro's hurt and shame reflected back at him. Inwardly he cursed himself; he was supposed to be his brother's protector, but how was he to shield Duro against Agron himself? It had always been such with them, since the time they were but babes. Duro was always underfoot, and Mati had always expected Agron to watch out for the annoying creature. Many times in his anger and frustration, Agron lashed out at Duro, wounding more with his harsh words than any blow ever could. But just as quickly, Agron would find a way to apologize, and all would be forgiven, such was Duro's heart. The younger could never stay mad at his older brother, for he so idolized him, and wanted nothing more than to be just like him, strong, tough, confident. What Duro could not know was that deep down Agron many times wished he did not have to be this way. Just once, he would like to let go, free to feel sadness and hurt, and not have it turn to rage. Agron reached out, squeezed Duro's wrist gently, and gave him a look that spoke volumes. Duro looked up, and smiled at Agron through his tears. There, all was right between them once more. Then the boys attention was drawn back to the bed, as Vatir drew in a ragged breath and coughed, blood forming at the corners of his mouth.

 

   "Agron, hergekommen," whispered their father. Agron drew close to the man's bed, leaning in close to hear what he had to say . "Mein Sohn, the family is yours now. My days are at an end. All in the village know my council vote now passes to you, as firstborn son. Yet you do not have years enough to take on my mantle as tribe leader, you must now give your allegiance to my brother, your Uncle. Learn from him, be strong mein Sohn. You must take care of your brother, your sisters Adalind and Doana, and your mother."

   "Vatir," Agron managed to choke out, "don't fret. I will always do my duty. The family will be cared for, and all will be as it should be."

   "Ich danke Ihnen mein Sohn..." and with that, Adalhard, chieftain of the tribe breathed his last. Agron felt something in him break at that moment, wanted to scream and rage, but at who? Who would care or listen to him, the Gods? Curse them, for doing this to him, to his family! So he turned and fled the room, grabbing his father's sword on the way out, just needing to get out, and take out his anger on something...

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   All the way across the known world, nearly 2000 leagues away, a small boy ran through the market barefoot. His skin was dark, as was his hair, which fell in a thick sheet to the nape of his neck. He could hear the voice of his older brother calling him, but he did not care. "Nasir!" came the call. "Nasir, come here! Baba will not be pleased if we are late!" The child laughed and ran on, hiding behind one of the stalls. "If you do not wish to be punished, come out now!"

   At 10, Nasir was a happy, precocious boy, and he loved to raise the ire of his brother Naveen who was 16 and did not have time for childish games. "I will buy you a sweet cake..." Naveen called out. At this Nasir appeared as if by magic from his hiding spot, so rare was a treat of such magnitude. That they were poor was something both boys understood, and Naveen had no intention of following through, but he needed to coax the little one out somehow. As soon as he spotted his brother's shining eyes, he caught him by the wrist and did not let go, half dragging the small child back to their tiny hut and scolding him the entire way. Nasir on the other hand, while appearing contrite, was laughing riotously on the inside! Little did the boy know this would be the last day he would run free or laugh so much for a long time to come.

 

   When they arrived home, a light skinned man dressed in strange garb was arguing with their father. Nasir did not understand about what, because he did not speak the common tongue, only the language of his motherland. It was obvious their father was upset, angry, and frightened. The other man however, appeared as though he knew that whatever argument took place was already won, with himself secured as victor.

   Baba was yelling now, which was something he never did. Naveen knew something was very wrong and quickly took Nasir and hid him in a crawl space under the floor, telling him not to move or make a sound, as he went to join Baba. Nasir crawled in the direction of the voices, and peeked through the cracks to see what was going on. As soon as the stranger saw Naveen, his eyes lit up, and his face took on a predatory grin. He gestured back and forth between Baba and Naveen, and when Baba remained silent, and Naveen only looked on, dumbfounded, he grabbed the youth by the arm and pulled him forward. Then Baba hissed and pulled from beneath his robes a small dagger that Nasir had never seen before. Instantly more men materialized, though from where Nasir did not know. They were all heavily armed and wore strange plates over their clothing. Baba rushed the first man, and ordered Naveen to run.

   Nasir quickly moved back to the spot his brother had left him in... He did not see his father fall, blood pouring from a wound in his chest. Naveen was yanking up the floorboard, pulling Nasir out when they were caught by the light skinned devils. Nasir was pulled kicking, screaming, and crying from his hiding spot, and this time the game was not so much fun. He screamed for his Baba, for Naveen, who was being dragged from their home right along with him. He continued to scream until he was silenced by a blow that knocked him out cold.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Unbeknownst to the little Syrian boy or to the angry German youth, unbeknownst to all except perhaps the Gods, the two were on a collision course, hurtling towards their destiny, towards one another. The fates had conspired to bring them together, though how and for what purpose remained to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron and Nasir (Tiberius) and their lives as they continue to move ever closer towards one another.

Years had passed since Lord Adalhard had left this world, and his sons had grown into men. Agron was 22, and Duro 20. The truth of their father's demise had finally become known to them - betrayed by a Gallic tribe that had been a sworn ally. Agron now held a visceral hatred towards all Gauls and those born west of the riverbank, who continued to cross the border into Germanic territory, even though Agron and the rest of the tribe's warriors defeated them every time.

It was now that Uncle Aldrich decided the time was ripe to take battle to the Gauls who had so plagued them. Agron knew that he would be chosen to go fight... he had no wife or child to care for and likely never would if he had any say in matter. Duro was already betrothed but as the union had not yet taken place he would certainly be chosen as well.

In the years since Vatir had ceased to breathe, Agron and Duro had suffered more unimaginable losses. Three winters past, a fever had broken out in their small settlement, and it had claimed the life of their mother and sisters. Duro had again wept, while Agron looked helplessly on. Again he had failed - he had promised his father he would care for the family and see to their well being. Though a fever was not something Agron could control, he still mistakenly placed blame upon himself. Now the two young men had no one left, except each other, and this time Agron could not fail in his charge, he would lose mind if he did.

Agron and Duro trained hard in the months leading up to all out war with the Gauls, but no amount of time spent working with Duro was of any use. He was not meant for this... He had not Agron's warrior instinct, nor his fighting prowess, nor did he share same yearning for blood. It was going to be all Agron could do to keep them both alive.

It was early one cold morning when Agron was startled out of dreams, to sound of clashing metal and smell of smoke. He was out of his alcove in a flash, pulling on boots and reaching for his sword as he ran into Duro in their tiny hut. "Beeil dich! Grab weapon and stop gaping like fish on hook!" With that, Agron was out the door and ready to slay all who stood in his path. His heart sank, for it was clear it would be a losing battle. Gauls were everywhere, so many! Never before had they seen such number gathered at once. Agron was sure these must be several tribes working together, intent on taking out the Germani for good. He fought for what seemed like forever, but in truth could not have been long at all. The Gauls had superior numbers, and Agron was eventually surrounded - he felt Gallic blade sink into shoulder, in a spot just above his heart. He screamed in pain and fury, and felt a sharp blow to the back of his neck before passing out...

He was outside of himself, seeing strange visions, Vatir, Mati, die Mädchen, those sweet little sisters of his. He could hear a voice calling to him from far away. At times it sounded like Duro, but other times he could not be sure. The voice sometimes took on a strange timbre, slightly higher in pitch than Duro's. It was the common tongue, Latin, spoken with a slight accent. He didnt know how or why, but that voice calling out his name was like sweet nectar to him. He fought to open his eyes, if only to see face that haunting voice belonged to.

Days later, when Agron finally came to, he was in chains, in the foul-smelling belly of a slave ship bound for Neapolis. Duro sat beside him, a worried expression on his face. "Bruder, Ich dachte sie für die Leben nach dem Tod." "You know I would not allow death to take me that easily..." Agron croaked. "Eine Stimme... a voice called my name, who else is here with us Duro?" Duro appeared confused... Agron's words held no meaning. "None from our home save you and I are on this ship. It was I that called your name, begging you to come back to me."

Agron's temper began to flare. He knew he had heard someone else call to him, that voice had given him strength to remain in this world. He had to know who it was. He explained this to Duro, who only continued to deny that anyone else had been keeping vigil over Agron.It was of no use, it seemed that Duro could not or would not tell him what he needed to know. Soon Agron forced himself to forget about the voice, except sometimes in his dreams when he heard it calling for him, ever searching for him... 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nasir had ceased to exist. The boy who once carried that name was gone, now someone else inhabited the body. A body that had grown into a young man's. He was called Tiberius, and he was body slave to his Dominus, a sometimes cruel Roman by the name of Fabianus. He had spent 7 summers now in this luxurious villa just outside of Capua, and he could recall nothing of his homeland or his family. Perhaps the young man himself had blocked these things from mind because he no longer remembered being taken from his home, nor terrifying voyage made across sea to this new life. Sometimes he remembered a youth who looked much as Tiberius himself did now. He knew he loved this young man very much and that he was loved in return, knew in his heart it was his brother but he could not remember the boy's name to save his life.

When he had first arrived in The Republic, he was taken to a slavers' market... being so small he had almost gone unnoticed, a fate that would surely have meant death in the mines. Yet something had prompted Fabianus to take risk and purchase the child. Perhaps he saw the beauty the child would eventually come into, a beauty that Fabianus would want to possess. So he made purchase and took the squalling thing home, had it cleaned, dressed, and groomed. It did not speak Latin , and Fabianus only took the time to rename it Tiberius before leaving it to the care if his villica. The villica was a sadistic man, who took great pleasure in tormenting little Tiberius. He taught him to speak Latin at the end of the rod, and to forget the tongue of his homeland. He instructed him in the ways of a slave with harsh words and sharp blows, yet never to his face... Fabianus had a strict rule about that.

Tiberius was sad and lonely, and spoke to no one, save a young girl not much older than he, named Chadara. She was lovely, and blond with eyes of the brightest blue. She had immediately taken an interest in the dark haired little boy, and was determined to make friend of him. She shared the special gifts bestowed upon her by Dominus with the child, and eventually she won him over. She helped him to master Latin, so that Villica would no longer feel the need to punish him. Before long, he spoke it so well that his accent was hardly even noticeable.  
It was no wonder that as they grew, their youth and beauty eclipsed all others in Fabianus' household, and by the time he was 15, Tiberius was given the exalted position of body slave, which came with a level of respect all of its own. Only Chadara remained his friend, all the other slaves were mistrustful of him and jealous of privilege his position afforded him. Tiberius enjoyed the respect, yet he could never quite grow accustomed to tending to all his Dominus' needs, as he and Chadara were often called upon to do.

Once, after a particularly difficult week for the two of them, Chadara found Tiberius sitting morosely in his small cell, crying. "Tiberius, when will this end?" "I fear it never shall Chadara. I am not equal to the tasks set before me at times." Chadara huffed out loud, but inwardly she cringed for her dear friend. He was like brother to her, she knew his heart as she knew her own. She told him what she sometimes did to make it through another fucking day under the thumb of a master, when she at times felt like giving up. She imagined herself in the arms of a protector, someone who truly cared for her. Not as another pretty possession, but for herself. Someone to love and be loved by in return. Young, fair of face, with a tender heart and kind words. This thought was what sustained her on nights when she thought she might break.

"It is foolishness to wish for such, we are not meant for such a life. We live to serve Dominus' will, in whatever capacity that may be," Tiberius chided. Yet that night, as he lay on the hard bench in his tiny cell, Tiberius dreamed of just such a man as Chadara had conjured for him. He could not see the man's face clearly, only eyes green as the sea, golden skin on an impossibly tall frame, with strong arms that could envelop Tiberius in comforting embrace. Arms that would hold him close and keep him from harm always. Upon waking in the early morning hours, Tiberius allowed himself the smallest of hope. Would day ever arrive when he would find such as the man of his dream?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes German Translations
> 
> Beeil dich - Hurry up
> 
> die Mädchen - the girls
> 
>  
> 
> Bruder, Ich dachte sie für die Leben nach dem Tod -  
> Brother, I thought you for the afterlife
> 
> Eine Stimme - a voice


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all Agron's POV, upon being purchased by Batiatus. I promise, Tiberius/Nasir will be back in the next chapter.

Chapter 3

Purchased for 100 denarii! The anger and shame Agron felt at having worth weighed in coin and having it been found wanting ran deep. That the coin was sum paid for himself, Duro, and handful of others, including a fucking Gaul called Segovax, only made matters worse. The only positive to arise in entire situation is that they had been purchased by one Quintus Lentulus Batiatus, arguably the finest lanista in all of Capua. His ludus was famous for its champions, both past and present. Agron had heard tales in the slavers' market of one called Spartacus, The Bringer of Rain, Slayer of the Shadow of Death. He had been a Thracian warrior condemned to death upon the sands, yet defied the Roman fucks by surving his execution. Now the man was city's most favoured gladiator. 

The idea of being a simple slave was abhorrent to Agron. But to be a gladiator was different. Here was something he could understand. Battle was in his blood, and while it might make him feel slightly ill to know he would be performing to entertain these Roman cunts, here there could be possibility. As they filed out of the square and began trek towards their new place in life, Agron's mind wandered. He knew that some gladiators earned their freedom upon the sands, and that was what he intended to do. He would fight and kill, survive, and someday he would be free again. He could buy passage aboard ship and return to his home, to the lands east of the Rhine. But he would not be content to earn only his won freedom: he would have to purchase same for Duro, for absent his brother, what would Agron have to live for? That meant keeping them both alive, for who knew how long, task that would no doubt prove exceedingly difficult. 

"Bruder, remain close. We go to a house of gladiators, and it is known fact your fighting skills leave much to be desired. I will see to your survival," Agron whispered. 

Duro only scoffed. "I am not helpless fucking child, Agron, and do not need you playing at nursemaid. I will prove to you I can manage on my own."

"Silence," thundered a man with skin dark as ebony, a Numidian by the look. "You do not speak unless given leave to." The man cracked his whip, hard, and the new acquisitions fell silent, while inisde Agron fumed. Holding his temper in check had never been one of Agron's strong suits, and at the moment, it was taking every fiber of his being not to lose control. Duro and his pigheadedness! Why could he not see Agron only meant to protect him? It was a task he took seriously, and he would see it done, whether Duro agreed to it or not!

Upon entering gate to the ludus, further indignities were wrought upon Agron and the others, as the gladiators laughed and threw insults at them. They were lined up and forced to stand baking in the midday sun. The dark skinned man who carried whip walked forward. "What is beneath your feet?' he asked. Agron knew enough to keep fucking mouth shut, yet Duro could not resist temptation. "Sand?" he retorted. "Fucking idiot!" Agron muttered at him under his breath. They had been here less than a day, an hour even, and already Duro had announced himself the fool! 

The dark skinned man turned towards the crowd of gladiators who were gathered watching. "Spartacus..." A man stepped forward, reserved, not very imposing, but with an intensity in gaze the likes of which Agron had never before seen. "Sacred ground, Doctore. Watered with tears of blood," were the words which fell from lips. So this was the mighty Spartacus, fucking Champion of Capua? If this was the best this ludus had to offer, Agron would be Champion before the kalends, he thought.

The one called Doctore began to give speech. Agron stopped listening, for heat was nearly unbearable, and he could feel brain stewing within head, turning to mush. Then another voice began to speak from balcony. It was Batiatus, the Dominus, standing above with two women, the younger of who looked down upon the men with barely disguised longing. It was not clear to Agron what was being asked of them, until Doctore again cracked whip and demanded they remove their subligaria. Duro and Agron exchanged puzzled glances. Agron was appalled. Not that he would have to disrobe in front of others, but that he should be so rudely commanded to do so. To be inspected like an animal, no more than chattel... it only served as reminder of how far removed from freedom he was in this place. With only smallest of tightening around eyes betraying his disgust, he did as bidden, cursing the Roman pigs from very depth of soul.

Before the first week was out, one of their number was sent to the afterlife during training by the Gaul. Segovax was a fierce warrior with his own thoughts towards glory in the arena. The German brothers had ridiculed him when he voiced desire of proving himself worthy enough for freedom upon the sands. Yet deep within his heart, this was what Agron desired as well, though he knew path would be difficult with Segovax standing in his way. Duro would make it even more so, as he performed poorly during training. Agron could not even be sure his brother would survive to earn the mark of the brotherhood, the great B branded upon forearm of all those who passed final test and earned the right to be called gladiators.

Soon it would seem the Gods showed him favor, as Segovax was removed from path forever. Inexplicably, the man attacked Spartacus in the baths one night, seeking to rob him of life. The Bringer of Rain would have been no more, had Crixus, former champion and shit-eating Gaul, not intervened. Agron did not understand why, as Spartacus and Crixus bore no love for one another, in fact, it could be said they harbored a feeling that bordered more on hatred than anything else. Segovax was interrogated, but not even when being tortured, not even when having cock parted from broken body did he reveal any explanations for his actions. Agron cared not, only that the man would be dead, and no longer an obstacle. Agron was now easily best among new recruits, a thing he would use to his advantage when at all possible. A few weeks later, by some miracle, Duro and he both passed final test, and received their marks, the only 2 of the new men to have made it. The two brothers were now that much closer to freedom, or so Agron thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron and his worries over Duro in their early days as gladiators.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said we would see Nasir this chapter, but RL has interrupted and so I figured I better post this as is, before I drive myself crazy!

Agron had come into his own in the weeks since the brothers had earned their brands. He excelled at every challenge Doctore presented him with. He had mastered both sword and spear, as these were same weapons he had wielded so skillfully in his homeland. Much time was still needed to learn additional skills, such as defense and proper use of shield before he would ever set foot in the arena. Agron and Duro often sparred with one another, Agron easily besting the younger man. At times, he considered allowing Duro to win, if only to make him not appear quite so pitiful, but his pride would not allow it. Being considered among lowest of men here was not easy thing for Agron to accept. In his tribe, he had always been considered the best young warrior, eclipsing all others in skill and ferocity, many with more years and experience than he. In the ludus, no matter how well he fought or how hard he trained, he was considered less than worthy of mark he now bore. Perhaps all that would change after he stood upon the sands to prove himself in the arena, thing that had been denied him as of yet.

 

The morning the fucking Gaul returned to training after a long absence, Agron hoped he would be chosen as his opponent, if only to wipe shit eating sneer from the stupid fuck's face. The Gods did not favor him however, as Doctore instead selected Duro to spar with Crixus. The man wasted no time in laying into the German, and Duro was bested soundly and quickly, being bloodied and knocked to ground with a thud in minutes. The sight of his younger brother struggling to rise, spitting blood, and bruises already beginning to blossom upon skin enraged Agron. Years of ingrained behavior rose up within him and he charged forward, momentarily forgetting where he was.

"Send me a man..." but Crixus next words were cut off as Agron crashed into the arrogant shit from behind. Agron saw nothing but red as he pummeled Crixus, landing a blow wherever he could. He did not even register the punches he received in kind, until Crixus landed one square upon Agron's jaw, sending him sprawling, landing him flat on his back. Agron rose immediately, growling his anger out, as was his habit, prepared to launch another assault.

"Agron! Enough!" came the frustrated voice of Doctore, bringing Agron back to himself. He heard Doctore say something about half rations the rest of the week and something about the mines, but he cared not. As he wiped blood from his mouth and stalked away, hating Crixus now more than ever, he vowed that no matter what mark he bore, he would never call that fucking Gaul brother!

 The rest of his day was for shit, and night fared no better, as Spartacus' words echoed in his mind. The Thracian had given Agron warning that evening after meal, and while words were most unwelcome, they were also true. In the arena, who would protect Duro if Agron were not there? All night long he mulled words over, deciding that he would entreat dear brother to take training more seriously. He tried to break words with Duro upon subject, but his fool of a brother had only laughed. "I could have easily taken him Agron, had you not come between us. I was merely letting Crixus tire himself out, and then would have pressed advantage, seeing myself to victory. Yet you robbed me of chance, as you always have," said Duro bitterly.

"The fuck I did! You were beaten, admit it! I have robbed you of nothing, except perhaps opportunity to die. Would you rather I had left you to fare on your own, and let the Gaul send you to the afterlife, as one did Vatir? Du bist ein Narr!"

 

That sobered Duro slightly, but he was not about to give in to Agron. "Mein Bruder, I will have to stand alone upon a day..." was all he could manage, images of their father swimming in both of their eyes. Truth stung Agron, heart constricting. Words were too similar to those uttered by Spartacus, and Agron felt a sliver of fear at what that might portend. Yet if this was what Duro truly desired, Agron would make earnest attempt to keep protective instincts at bay.

A few days later, Duro did show marked improvement as he held his own against Crixus, the latter even commenting on it. "The pup finally bears teeth!" the man laughed. Moment however proved fleeting as the Gaul seemed to draw from some inner fire, and served Duro a proper thrashing. War waged within Agron's head a moment, as he forgot Duro's plea for independence. Brotherly concern quickly won out, and he took step forward, when the Champion caught his eye. Spartacus gave a slight, nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Agron would serve Duro no favor by going to him now, only cause him to lose what little ground he had gained. He glanced sadly at his brother lying upon ground, and Duro looked up at him with a countenece Agron could not read, as though he also were torn between need to prove himself and the desire to have Agron stand for him again. It took all of the older man's will to instead turn to face his own opponent, attacking with viciousness, needing to loose his turmoil upon something, someone, lest it burn him out.

That night Agron would lay awake, long after Duro began to snore. In filthy cell shared by the Germans, Agron would silently offer up prayers to Gods he did not believe were listening. Prayers for life of the one person he still loved in this life, the one person he could not live without. As Agron neared that moment when exhaustion began to overtake will to stay awake, he heard soft voice speak name with such tenderness. All troubling thoughts seemed to sprout wings and take to sky upon hearing it. As voice repeated his name sweetly, over and over, Agron knew he had heard it before, in his fevered slumbers. He gave himself over to sleep, allowing her to enfold him within embrace, hoping he might find who soothing voice belonged to in his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> German translation:  
> Du bist ein Narr - You are a fool


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \----------------------------- denotes a change in perspective

    Chadara made her way softly to her friend's tiny quarters. The hour was late, and Tiberius would most likely be asleep, as his duties required him to rise before sun. Yet when Dominus called, they were obliged to answer.

 

     This night had seen Dominus entertaining friends from Capua, and wine had flowed freely. His guests had included some lanista and his wife, and Chadara had not cared for the fire-haired witch, nor way woman's eyes stared daggers into her as she carried in tray after tray of delicacies. "Good Fabianus, you must allow me to repay your hospitality. I insist, I would have you as my guest at annual games against Pompeii this year. I am all but assured the primus, and I would have none other than Spartacus fight it. I recall you being away on business in Picentia and so missed the match agaisnt Theokoles," chimed Batiatus.

     Chadara's ears perked at mention of games, and she tarried overlong, hoping to hear more. In truth, she pressed luck, sidling close to the lanista, brushing arm with his, and glancing up at him from beneath lashes of downcast eyes. Upon her next trip to retrieve more wine, Tiberius had chastised her for such brazen behavior. "You press fortune, Dominus' eye misses nothing!"

     "I but seek to show Dominus he is not only master in the Republic. I have seen his gaze upon young thing purchased from Trebius some days past. I have worked hard to secure my place, tolerating hands upon me and cock within me, and I will not be usurped. If I must provoke jealousy within his breast to keep position, I shall do so. Perhaps if he sees another holds desire towards me, he will not be so quick to discard me," she retorted.

     Tiberius merely shook his head at his friend's logic. The only thing her behavior would accomplish would be to provoke Dominus' ire. Chadara would feel the sting of it soon. Fabianus had never been a man to deny his friends and associates the pleasures of a slave's body, so long as he was the one making offer, fact Tiberius was well acquainted with. So when Chadara woke him from peaceful slumber, Tiberius knew it was her earlier actions that led to this. Dominus would wish to make her pay for her immodest actions, and in turn so would Tiberius suffer as well.

     "Apologies friend, I bear blame for Dominus' late summons, "she murmured. "It is of no consequence, this is what life is for such as you and I," he answered her as they began long walk to Dominus' chambers. He knew what this night held for him, he would watch as always, as Fabianus took Chadara roughly, his hands pulling her collar tight as he fucked her. With any luck he would pass out from the wine that he was pickled in this night. But if he didn't, Tiberius would be forced to lay hands upon sagging and withered flesh, aiding the man to achieve climax, and then be forced to wash his Dominus' body and prepare him for slumber. He could only pray to the Gods it would not last overly long, so that he might get some rest before having to greet dawn.

     "Do you recall conversation of long ago, when I confessed to imagining for myself someone who would rescue me from this? Take me for his wife, and give me a villa and servants of my own? That is where mind will be this night,'' Chadara confided. In truth Tiberius did recall, though he did not dare hope for same. He would belong to Fabianus until the man no longer had use for him, until Tiberius' youth and beauty faded. He accepted his fate, even this current situation, for it meant Dominus still had need of him. When such summons ceased, Tiberius would be lost, likely sold off to a new master, or even worse, the mines. Until that time, he would make the most of his position, and would not foolishly throw away such privilege.

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     Fuck the Gods! For days, the House of Batiatus had been preparing to host the Toga Virilis ceremony for Magistrate Calavius' son. To say that it had ended disastrously would be understatement. It began earlier in the day, when Spartacus had escorted that preening little shit into the ludus.

     The Champion and Crixus were set to have match for entertainment of guests, and the boy Numerius was to be given private viewing of the gladiators training. Crixus called for someone to spar with him, and foolishly Duro had obliged. He was knocked to the sands no less than four times, and Agron recalled harsh words between them a few days past. "Rise and fight till your final breath. Or prove the name brother false." Watching Duro take the beating of a lifetime, Agron regretted his words, and found himself wishing beloved brother to submit. How he managed to hold self back from killing Crixus was beyond his fucking reasoning. When Doctore commanded Crixus to stand down, and to see Duro to medicus, Agron felt relief, guilt, and pride wash over himself, and went to to Duro, pressed their foreheads together, giving strength to his younger brother. He steamed the rest of the day, wishing it were him fighting Crixus this night and not Spartacus. Yet if he could not have that, he prayed that the fates would see fit to have The Champion emerge victorious, and see the Gaul humiliated in front of both the gladiators and the elite of Capua. The small bit of fierce joy he felt at seeing the little puke Numerius call for Varro to fight Spartacus in the Gaul's stead was short-lived.

     It held no sense! After a match which saw Spartacus to victory, the boy commanded The Bringer of Rain to take Varro's life, as though this were truly the arena and not exhibition match only. Spartacus had hesitated, unwilling to kill his friend, until the guards stepped in. Varro had whispered something to Spartacus, and then unbelievably, reached up and brought the Champion's sword down into himself, forcing Spartacus to finish the deed. The men were silent as they were led back to their cells, Spartacus having been sent off to see medicus to have cut on his abdomen treated. Beside him, Duro was restless and Agron knew he had words he wished to share.

     "Not a word, Duro, not tonight," he hissed out. "Vas?" Duro questioned. "I know that look, and I will not hear it this night. Whatever your thoughts in this, fucking keep them to yourself," Agron grumbled. Agron himself had far too many conflicting emotions. Spartacus had been forced to do the unthinkable. Varro was, or had been the man's best friend. Hell, his only friend, his brother almost, now dead by Spartacus' own hand. All because Batiatus would seek to gain favor with the Magistrate, that fucking cock, he allowed that little snot to turn what should have been simple sport into a fight to the death, _sine missione!_ Agron was not close to Spartacus or Varro, he had not been here long enough to earn trust, yet he had admired them both for their skill and loyalty to one another. Varro had now been sent to the afterlife on whim of a boy. Numerius, whom Agron could only see as pampered, coddled little child, no matter the toga he now wore! He did not wish to think of what he would have done if presented with that choice. Thoughts such as that were not to be given life, for they would grow and fester in Agron's brain and heart, and rob him of sanity as he dwelled upon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter this time, due to this little thing known as RL getting in the way of my writing time. Plus I am hard at work finishing up the next chapter in Memories so... 
> 
> Hope to have more to add soon.


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